


After the Battle

by icandrawamoth



Series: Some Ghosts are Never Gone 'verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Anxiety, Cuddling & Snuggling, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Post-Battle, Post-Battle of Endor, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-28 23:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15717066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: After the Battle of Endor, Wedge finds Tycho in the midst of a panic attack.





	After the Battle

**Author's Note:**

> I keep writing in the main wipbigbang fic that Tycho hasn't had a panic attack after Lusankya, so I started to wonder when the last one was. Here's a possibility.

The brilliant flare of the second Death Star exploding behind him still flickers in the back of Wedge's mind, triumph bright in his gut, as he brings his X-wing in to land on _Home One_. The familiar hanger noise is even louder than usual as he pops his canopy, other fighters entering the magcon field and settling to the floor as pilots mill around, calling to each other excitedly and exchanging backslaps and hugs.

Wedge smiles at the familiar faces, greets each of his Rogues as they come home. After a few words exchanged with the squadron, he goes looking through the wild assemblage for one face he hasn't spotted yet.

No one interrupts, which he appreciates. Most of these people don't seem to recognize him, don't know what he did out there, and he doesn't mind that at all. He knows he did a good job, played a crucial role, but he doesn't need to be put on a pedestal for it.

Wedge spots a passing A-wing pilot and asks, "Have you seen Tycho?" Hes knows his partner is here, spotted him escaping the Death Star's explosion radius with the rest. He must be around somewhere.

"Celchu?" The pilot hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Over there. He's sick or something."

Wedge frowns as he moves in that direction, but when he spots his partner in a secluded corner of the hanger, seated on a storage crate with his head in his hands, shaking slightly, he understands. Tycho isn't sick. He's having a panic attack. Wedge has been by his side through enough of them over the years to know what one looks like.

Wedge approaches slowly, wanting anything but to startle him, but it'll be almost impossible not to when he's in his own head like this. When he's half a dozen steps away, he calls Tycho's name softly, and he jerks upright to look at him. Wedge's heart twists at the sight of his blotchy face and wide, wet blue eyes.

"Hey," Wedge says gently and eases down beside him, one hand going to his back, rubbing gently up and down.

"Hey." Tycho's voice is rough, his breathing shallow and uneven, but there's a little relief there, too, at seeing his partner.

"What do you need?" Wedge asks.

Tycho looks away again, takes another shuddering breath. "Just keep doing that," he says.

Wedge nods silently, firming his touch just a little, moving his free hand to rest on Tycho's knee, offering more contact to ground him and help him calm down.

They sit there in silence for several minutes, Wedge listening as Tycho struggles to bring his body back under control, succeeding little by little. Wedge somehow manages to keep his worry in check. They've been through this before; he knows Tycho will be fine, as terrible as this is for him every time. And the quiet is good for Wedge, too, the last vestiges of adrenaline from the battle fading away.

Finally, Tycho stills, letting out a soft sigh as he slumps against Wedge's shoulder.

"Okay?" Wedge confirms, and when he gets a nod, he brushes a kiss to Tycho's hair. "What happened? If you want to say?"

"It was just everything, I think," Tycho answers quietly. "All the stress building up to the battle today, and when it was finally over, the dam just sort of broke."

"Makes sense. It's been hard on all of us." He should have known it would hit Tycho especially, given his predisposition to anxiety.

"Yeah." Tycho sighs again and levers himself upright, and when he turns his face to Wedge, there's a little smile there despite of the lingering tears. "We really did it, though. It's over."

"It is." Wedge smiles back, tenderly thumbing the wetness away. "Another Death Star gone, Vader and Palpatine dead..."

It's not really the end of the fight; they both know that. Just because they've cut off the Empire's head doesn't mean the body isn't still a formidable beast. But it's a step, the biggest one the Alliance has ever taken, and it means so much.

"I hear there's going to be a party down on the moon," Wedge says. "Drinking and celebrating and dancing with Ewoks."

Tycho makes a noncommittal sound, resting his head on Wedge's shoulder again.

"We could rest for a few hours and go down later," Wedge suggests as he drapes an arm around him. "I know how these attacks take it out of you."

"That sounds good," Tycho agrees gratefully.

"Come on, then." Wedge helps him to his feet, righting him when he stumbles a little, and guides him through the growing crowd. A few people try to flag him down or shout congratulations, but he waves them all off.

It doesn't take long for them to reach the pilots' barracks. Wedge helps Tycho remove his equipment and flight suit, then takes off his own, frowning at the skinny bunk. They'll make due, he decides, sitting down at the head with his back against the wall, spreading his legs and dropping Tycho's pillow in his lap.

"You won't sleep well like that," Tycho says even as he curls up in the spot Wedge has made.

Wedge sinks a hand into his hair, stroking the blond strands back from his face. "I'll sleep well having you close."

Tycho doesn't protest further. He pulls the blankets up over both of them, and after a few silent moments asks, "How did the Rogues make out out there?"

Wedge swallows, a cold void flaring in his belly as he thinks of their losses. "Better than we could have," he tells Tycho. "But there are good people who didn't come home."

"Who?"

Wedge wants to tell him it can wait, that he's already been upset enough, but he knows it's pointless. It would be cruel to leave him not knowing which of their friends and comrades are no longer with them.

"Sila and Grizz and Keir."

From this angle, Wedge can't see the spasm of pain on Tycho's face, but he knows it's there. He didn't know them all well, but no loss is ever easy. "May the Force be with them," Tycho murmurs.

"We'll drink to them later," Wedge assures, stroking his hair. He means so much more than drinking. No fallen Rogue is ever forgotten. "Now, rest."

Tycho tucks himself deeper into the pillow and blanket and reaches for Wedge's free hand, twining their fingers together and squeezing. Wedge understands what he's saying without words: how grateful he is that they both came back and how much he loves him.

Wedge squeezes back.


End file.
